Chapter Twelve: Xiao Kun Channels His Inner Strength to Wield the Great Wolf Fang

Outside the Dao-Seeking Academy,

a slender figure peered around the door.

She had delicate, charming features, long eyelashes, and a lively air. Beneath her blue Daoist robes, her graceful figure appeared and vanished like a fleeting shadow.

This young woman was Changning.

Xuansu’s daughter.

The Truth-Seeking Temple’s foremost breeder of spirit chickens.

Most importantly, during this period, Xuanming and Chang’an Zi had eaten three of her spirit chickens between them.

Now that the creditor had suddenly come calling, both men felt somewhat guilty. Yet neither was an ordinary Daoist.

One was quick-witted, inwardly guilty to a terrifying degree, but outwardly all smiles and increasingly amiable, without the slightest sign of anything amiss.

The other was an old fox who had cultivated his composure to perfection. With white hair, white Daoist robes, and an otherworldly bearing, he looked exactly like a lofty, incorruptible sage—an immaculate Daoist cultivator untouched by worldly dust.

“Disciple pays respects to Martial Uncle.”

“The main gate was open, so I came in.”

“If I have been discourteous, I ask Martial Uncle’s forgiveness.”

With a light wave of his horsetail whisk, Xuanming sent out a strand of spiritual power that lifted the young female Daoist from her bow.

With a kindly smile, he said, “There is no need for such ceremony, Niece Changning. Few people ever visit this old Daoist’s courtyard. May I ask what brings you here?”

When one has taken another’s gifts, one naturally feels awkward refusing them.

His attitude was exceptionally warm.

Of course, he was genuinely curious as well.

Everyone in the temple knew that he cherished peace and quiet.

The younger disciples did not dare disturb him lightly, while Daoists of his own generation would not come calling without reason.

Mystic Maiden Peak lay some distance from Hidden Dao Peak. On the surface, he had no dealings with this girl whatsoever. Had Changning come for another reason? Or had she truly discovered a few clues, learned the truth behind the missing spirit fowl, and come to demand an explanation?

But that could not be right!

It was Chang’an Zi who had stolen the chickens, and Chang’an Zi who had eaten them.

He should be the one receiving a visit.

What did it have to do with this innocent old Daoist who had been forced to eat chicken?

He had not stolen any chickens!

Thoughts churned through his mind, but Xuanming remained outwardly composed.

“Martial Uncle, I recently comprehended a marvelous technique and gained a little insight into it, but many questions arose as well.”

“My mother says that your attainments in this technique are profound, and that she cannot compare with you in the slightest. That is why I came here rashly, hoping to seek your guidance.”

Stroking his long beard, Xuanming relaxed. He gave a slight nod, then asked in puzzlement, “Toil in youth over the affairs of a lifetime; never grow idle and waste even an inch of time. I am deeply gratified that you possess such a desire to learn.”

“However, does Junior Sister Xuansu know you are here?”

———

The marvelous technique Changning referred to was most likely the Yin-Yang Foundation-Building Scripture.

Before he revealed his new Eight-Trigram Swordsmanship, this was the only field in which he stood alone, unrivaled throughout the Truth-Seeking Temple.

Guiding Changning would not be a problem.

It was a teacher’s duty to transmit the Dao, impart knowledge, and resolve doubts.

He could not bear the title of martial uncle for nothing.

Still, should Junior Sister Xuansu not have informed him beforehand?

Changning was clever and perceptive. She understood the implication and apologized.

“Martial Uncle, please do not take offense. Mother did not mean to slight you. Her old ailment suddenly returned, and the circumstances left her no choice but to enter secluded meditation and treat her injuries.”

“I came here without telling her. If I can comprehend this marvelous technique and advance my cultivation, perhaps I will be able to help cure her old ailment and spare her further suffering.”

Xuanming suddenly understood.

Fifteen years ago, when Junior Sister Xuansu was pregnant with Changning, she encountered a demonic calamity. Though she escaped safely, she suffered severe injuries.

Not only had Changning been born with a weak constitution and required careful care—she had yet to enter the Second Realm even now—but Xuansu had also been left with a lingering illness that flared up every year, forcing her to enter seclusion for a period of time.

After all these years, the Daoists of the temple had grown accustomed to it.

It was not that they did not wish to help. They simply knew less about medicine and healing than Junior Sister Xuansu. If even she could do nothing, there was little they could accomplish. Their intentions were willing, but their abilities were not.

Well-behaved and sensible children were always endearing.

Xuanming did not dampen the young girl’s enthusiasm, nor did he pour cold water on her by saying she was incapable. He agreed to teach her.

“Of all virtues, filial piety comes first.”

“It is a good thing that you possess such a heart.”

“Every three days, you may come to the Scripture Repository. This old Daoist will answer your questions.”

Changning was overjoyed.

Her voice was bright and merry, like an oriole emerging from a secluded valley.

Her entire being radiated the vitality of youth.

“Thank you, Martial Uncle.”

Xuanming smiled broadly and nodded as he stroked his beard.

The moment she left, he changed expression and glared at Chang’an Zi, his eyebrows bristling.

“From now on, do not go to Pure Maiden Peak again. How can you bear to bully such a good child?”

“If I learn that you have not repented, I will make you personally transcribe eight hundred scriptures.”

“And you must diligently practice the sword technique from earlier. If you dare grow lazy, this old Daoist will not spare you.”

“Why are you still standing here? Leave at once!”

Watching his junior martial uncle change faces as quickly as one turned a page and begin driving him away, Chang’an Zi let out a silent, hysterical cry in his heart.

His expression became aggrieved. The little bit of gratitude he had felt earlier vanished without a trace.

As if you did not eat any!

You ate far more than I did—and with much greater enthusiasm!

But seniority was as weighty as a mountain, and his martial uncle’s reasoning was unassailable.

Chang’an Zi did not dare argue.

He complained inwardly while remaining obedient on the surface.

After saluting, he hurried away.

Looking at Chang’an Zi’s back, Xuanming laughed and cursed under his breath.

“Brat, do not think I cannot tell that you are secretly cursing me in your heart.”

When he saw Changning stop Chang’an Zi, he immediately swept out his sleeve. A gust of wind rose from the ground, and the main gate of the Dao-Seeking Academy slammed shut.

Chang’an Zi, who had just turned around to ask for help, was left speechless.

You really are my wonderful martial uncle!

He slowly turned back. With a wide, strained grin, Chang’an Zi asked, “May I ask why Junior Sister has stopped me?”

With a soft snort, Changning—standing six feet tall—casually drew a nine-foot wolf-toothed club from the Wishful Pouch at her waist. Her eyes curved into crescents as she smiled sweetly.

“Senior Brother Chang’an, why did Martial Uncle say he would hand you over to me?”

———

Do not think she had forgotten about that matter.

Changning had possessed an exceptionally keen sense of smell since childhood. From Chang’an Zi, she detected a familiar scent.

That same scent had appeared every time a chicken went missing.

The identity of the chicken thief was now perfectly clear.

Thinking of how the spirit fowl she had painstakingly raised had been eaten by the dog-faced scoundrel before her, a fierce look appeared on Changning’s tender, fair face. Her little canine teeth glittered beneath the sunlight.

Chang’an Zi’s scalp instantly went numb.

———

At the Scripture Repository, within the Dao-Seeking Academy,

Xuanming pretended not to hear Chang’an Zi’s agonized screams. He turned and returned to his room, sat before his desk, picked up a scripture, and began reading in silence. Before long, his mind was free of all external things, completely immersed in its pages.

The pleas for mercy and the cries gradually faded into the distance. It was as though, separated by a single wall, two entirely different worlds existed.

Outside the wall, there was noisy commotion as a man and a woman chased and played with each other.

Inside, there was tranquil silence as a Daoist studied the scriptures and comprehended the Dao.

Movement and stillness, old and young—both contained the Dao and their own principles, while also carrying a hint of peaceful, beautiful years.

The sun set, the moon rose, and day gave way to night.

Early the next morning, after gathering the purple qi of the rising sun, Xuanming climbed once more to the second floor of the Scripture Repository.

He brewed tea, burned incense, bent over his desk, and savored the scriptures.

He had returned to his former life.

The fragrance of tea filled his nose, the scent of books soothed his heart, and Xuanming felt at peace both inside and out. With a tranquil Dao-heart, he studied the scriptures and contemplated the Dao, gradually entering a state of sublime absorption.

That evening, a commotion arose.

His thoughts interrupted, Xuanming was not annoyed. Chang’an Zi was directing the Daoists as they moved the Daoist scriptures.

These were among the gifts granted by the imperial court.

That morning, Chang’an Zi had already checked them. Of the five hundred scriptures, more than two hundred duplicated those already held by the temple, while more than two hundred others were not found in the Scripture Repository at all. In the end, it was roughly an even split.

The Daoist Canon was one of the foundations of every Daoist lineage.

Thus Chang’an Zi and the other Daoists were all in high spirits.

Xuanming was happy because he would be able to read more scriptures.

The other Daoists were happy because their sect was flourishing.

After the scriptures had all been moved, Chang’an Zi limped over to Xuanming, baring his teeth in pain.

Half of it was genuine pain. The other half was an act.

Seeing his martial uncle bury his head in the scriptures and ignore him, he realized that the old man would not fall for such tricks and stopped pretending.

He leaned over the desk and said mysteriously, “Martial Uncle, do you know what that imperial envoy promised our Truth-Seeking Temple before leaving yesterday?”

Xuanming cast a bland glance at his cheap nephew-disciple, who remembered food but never punishment. He extended a finger and lightly pierced through the three-inch-thick desk. Then he brushed his palm over it, and in an instant the desk was restored.

Afterward, he continued reading.

Gulp!

After swallowing with difficulty, Chang’an Zi immediately abandoned all pretense of suspense and said honestly: